


Feathers of Charcoal

by bluetoast



Series: Birds of a Feather [55]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bigotry & Prejudice, Bullying, Deaf Character, Deaf Dean Winchester, F/M, Gen, Grief
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-23
Updated: 2014-05-23
Packaged: 2018-01-26 06:20:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1677932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluetoast/pseuds/bluetoast
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It started with spring cleaning. Dean finds a forgotten jar in the back of his closet - and finds a surprise inside. Following his late wife's instructions, he decides to plan a surprise vacation for him and his little girl. He nearly told her on Mother's Day, Liesel's least favorite holiday of the year. The Friday after, proves to be a better choice, considering just how bad of a day his little girl has.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Feathers of Charcoal

**Author's Note:**

> You might want some Kleenex for this one.

Spring cleaning – Dean still wasn't sure if he dreaded this chore or enjoyed it. He had left Liesel in her room with a trash bag and informed her to sort through her clothing and take out everything she had outgrown. He was currently in his own closet, looking for the same, as well as clothes he didn't plan on wearing again. Or rather, he should have been – his work had come to an abrupt end when he'd knocked a shoebox to the floor and scattered the contents across the floor. As he put the kept artwork away, Dean paused when he came to a trio of letters he had nearly forgotten about.

The first letter had been written on pink construction paper and the letters and words varied in size, made with a pencil Dean knew had been most likely too fat for the hand of a small girl. 

_Dear Santa -_

_This is the first letter I've written you. I am still learning how to write, so Mr. Jay is helping me with the spelling. This year for Christmas all I want is for my mommy to not be sick. I don't know what she has, but it's made her tired and sad. I don't want her to be tired and sad. So that's all I want. Please._

_Liesel Coulter, Age 5_

The second letter had even printing on writing paper – and accented with hearts and flowers drawn in crayons. 

_Dear Santa -_

_Last year I wrote to you and asked if you could make my mommy better. Maybe you didn't know how sick she was – or maybe the angels she's with now told you she had to go to Heaven. It's... if you know any other kids with sick mommies, who were sick like my mommy was – make them better. Make them better so they don't feel sad like I do. That's all I would like for Christmas, please._

_Liesel Coulter, Age 6_

The third letter had was lined paper and there was a picture of what Dean knew was supposed to be him and Liesel – neither of them smiling. Just looking at the letter now, when it was a year old, it made his heart ache. 

_Dear Santa -_

_Mr. Jay said that the joy was missing from our house. Have you seen it? If you do, could you please return it to us? Or – is there a way to get a new joy? I would also like a teddy bear, please. You have so many kids to give gifts to, so that's all I want. A new joy, and a teddy bear._

_Thank you and Merry Christmas._

_Liesel Coulter, Age 7_

Dean knew that his daughter was not at all the snooping kind of girl. Not that such things mattered. Back in October, right before Halloween, he'd come home from work to find Cas at a loss for words and a very despondent Liesel crying in her room. A fifth grader had told her and several of her friends on the playground that there was no such thing as Santa. Dean had done his best to try and make her understand about the true spirit of Christmas – and what had really broken his heart was his little girl believing that two years ago, Santa had granted her wish and made someone's mommy not sick anymore. 

Dean finished returning the contents of the box back inside and then slid it back into place, sighing. It almost broke his heart when he wasn't able to add a fourth letter this past Christmas. Liesel had gotten to believe in Santa three years longer than he had, but that was of little comfort. He shook his head and turned to look in the rest of the closet. Ignacia's half of the closet was still half occupied by things he couldn't entirely bring himself to give away. True, the garment bags were near the back and he rarely touched them, but deep down – he didn't know if he could completely rid himself of all of her things. Perhaps he'd start his cleaning with his dresser instead. He was about to turn out the light and head into his room when he caught sight of something on the floor near the back of the closet. Dean crouched down and moved the bottom of the heavy bag that held Ignacia's wedding dress aside and he could see the large jar that had once held pickles almost shoved into the corner. He pulled the jar towards him, his look of confusion slowly giving way to more sadness as he suddenly remembered.

Dean ran his fingers along the taped-on once bright yellow piece of paper. In his late wife's handwriting the words 'HAWAII FUND' just seemed to mock him. That trip to Hawaii that he and Ignacia should be planning to take this September that would never happen. He took the jar out of the closet and set it on his dresser and opened it. He knew there couldn't be much cash inside, they had spent a good chunk of it whenever they had moved to Texas. A lot of it was in loose change – quarters, dimes, nickles and pennies filled the entire bottom of the jar, all the way up to the bottom of the label. When he pulled back the lid, he stopped short. 

He had expected the few dollar bills resting among the coins, but what he hadn't expected to find was an envelope. His heart started to pound when he recognized Ignacia's handwriting on the front, that looping scrawl – Dean & Liesel. His heart still thumping in his chest, he drew the envelope out and flicked it open. He knew that Ignacia had written a few letters for him to give to Liesel as she got older, but this – he hadn't known about this. 

Inside the envelope was a single sheet of loose-leaf paper, and ten one hundred dollar bills. Dean took a deep breath and began to read.

_Dean,_

_I don't know when you will be reading this – two days or two years after I am gone – I'm actually sort of hoping it's the later. It's sort of funny, sitting here, writing this knowing I'll be dead when you read this. It's not like the letters I've written for Liesel._

_I know you well enough Dean that you most likely haven't gotten it all back together just yet. Or if you have, something will come along and try and wreck it. I just don't know. I worry about you and Lis so. You have been through so much and now this had to happen. I'm sorry._

_Enough of this sorrowful crap._

_We're never going to get to go on that trip to Hawaii. I'm sort of pissed about that. I'll find us some lovely vacation spot in Heaven, how about that? Perhaps some nice, tranquil corner where there's never-ending bowls of ice cream and refilling plates of roast beef sandwiches._

_Dean had to take a deep breath, trying to calm himself down. He was also rather pissed about them never getting to take that vacation. He rubbed his nose and began to read again._

_Since we never got to take that trip – I want you to use this money for you and Lis to go on vacation. You've told me about that trip you took to Yellowstone when you were a teenager. Oh, I know you've been all over the country and to parts of Europe, but even I know it's hard to enjoy a new place when you're more worried about landing a dismount!_

_Since you've told me you hate boats and Liesel, if she hasn't changed from her girly-girl ways, is not one for camping – I'm going to suggest Disney World. Go, have fun – eat ice cream for lunch, make chocolate a food group – laugh like absolutely no one is watching. Because you two deserve some happiness. I don't want you to spend weeks on end in eternal mourning. I counted out the money and, if you haven't added to it, the total should match what I have written at the bottom of this letter._

_And Dean? If at all possible – make the vacation a surprise for Liesel. The sort of surprise you need after a terrible, awful, no-good, very bad day._

_Love Always,_

_Ignacia_

Dean swallowed back tears and glanced at the total before shoving the letter and cash back into the jar. There was more than enough in the jar for a vacation – almost enough for two, actually. He'd never been to Disney World – Ignacia had gone – back when she came to Atlanta in '96. If he could manage to keep it a secret from Liesel, however – that might prove to be the trickiest part.

*  
It took two weekends, but Liesel and her dad finally managed to sort through a lot of old clothes, old toys and other outdated items in the house to donate to the Goodwill. She'd even counted all the pieces in the old puzzles to make sure they only gave away ones with all of them – those with missing ones were put in the recycle box. They also cleaned the house from top to bottom and found several missing items in the process. Lis was still convinced one of their two cats was the main hider of things like the spare mail key, a few Legos and rubber bands. It was nearly May now and soon the school year would be over. Third grade had been far better than second. Her teacher was a lot nicer, although tougher, she wasn't in the same room as Kara Ferguson, and, perhaps best of all, she had finally gotten do so something outside of school – softball. 

Liesel was, of course, looking forward to summer vacation – if not a little concerned about attending the summer camp at Kilbridge Academy, where grandma was vice principal. It wasn't her working there that made her worry, it was the fact that it was a camp for the current students and those related to the faculty. Being one of the few hearing people going – well, that was never easy. 

She sat down on her bed, staring out the window. As much as she loved summer, it still wasn't an easy time of the year for her or dad. Even though her birthday was in June, it was also the time of the year that mom died. It'd be three years this July, but sometimes, to Liesel, it felt much longer and then it felt like just yesterday. She had thought that her grandparents moving to Austin would be a big help in getting their lives back to – mostly normal – but it was all to clear to her that there was a new form of normal. 

Mr. Cas had explained that the world tended to be mean to the nicest people at the worst possible times. 

Mr. Cas.

He was similar to Mr. Jay, but he was also more straightforward and way more serious. Mr. Jay said it was because the place where Mr. Cas came from had been very scary and he had been through some very terrible things. Things she was too young to hear about. Mr Cas also wasn't around as much as Mr. Jay was. Now that her grandpa was retired, he watched her most days while dad worked when she got out of school. Mr Cas had very weird job – he helped people who had trouble throwing things away. At least, that was how Dad described it. Maybe he didn't know exactly what a hoarder was either. 

Liesel sighed, picked up the doll lying on her bed and straightened her hat. Dad did a lot of things that she didn't understand. Maybe he was sad that she didn't believe in Santa Claus, the Easter Bunny and the Tooth Fairy anymore. She was almost in fourth grade – and well... maybe it was her growing up he was finding hard. That was why the doll showed up at Christmas. She wasn't going to pretend she didn't love it. She did – but she honestly never expected to find an American Girl Doll under the Christmas Tree. That, in her mind, was too expensive. But still... he had remembered... he'd remembered the doll she liked best when she first saw it in the catalog – before the First Christmas without Mom. She stood up, set Rebecca (why bother changing a doll's name when it came with one) on her desk and moved to the window. 

It was Mother's Day weekend – her least favorite weekend of the whole year.

She could see the Carmichael family working in their yard, with Mrs. Carmichael sitting in the shade of the garage, and the youngest kid was in a playpen in the shade as well. When they moved to Austin, the Carmichaels had five kids – now there were seven. And not one of them would talk to Liesel. She wasn't exactly sure if the youngest was a boy or a girl – she just heard it called baby. She looked down when she felt something brush against her leg.. “Good morning, Noroc.” She leaned down and picked up the small cat, lifting her chin lightly at the sight outside the window. “You done with your nap for the morning?” She held her pet so she could look into the calico's face. “Why don't you go find Leroux?” She set the animal down and then went to her dresser to get clothes for the day. 

Mother's Day weekend could be a lot easier if people didn't consistently call attention to the fact that she didn't have a mother. It was twice as annoying when people said it like she wasn't aware of it. Liesel was very aware of the fact her mother wasn't there. It wasn't like she was even all that unique. She'd seen families at the Austin Zoo that sometimes had two dads or two moms – and there she was, with just one like she was a freak show. Would they stare and point if she only had a mom, or if she was a boy? Liesel once mentioned it to Mr. Cas, who told her that some people were just... a word she wasn't allowed to say. 

Liesel never brought how much it made her feel bad to her dad. Dad was already sad enough because he missed mom too. Maybe he missed her a little more than she did. She wasn't sure. They didn't talk about it. 

Maybe they should.

*  
The people at the Goodwill were glad to see the Coulters. Liesel was sort of embarrassed at the few baby toys she'd found stuck away in her closet – some of which she'd forgotten she had. After the trunk of her dad's car was cleared of their donations, and her dad had gotten a receipt from one of the workers, the two of them headed into the store to look around. Dad was always looking for an angel grandma didn't have to add to her collection. Liesel once counted the angels in grandma's garrison (Mr Cas told her that was the proper collective noun he'd always used for a group of angels) and there were one-hundred and seventy four angels in total. They were made of crystal, porcelain, stone, ceramic, wood, metal, and glass. Her dad told her that at one time, the angels had been put away in a closet and he'd gotten them all out and put them on his dresser.

What _should_ be the one-hundred and seventy-fifth angel in grandma's collection was at their house, on a shelf in her dad's room. Dad's garrison numbers only ten – but, just like grandma's, each one has a story attached to it. Her personal favorite is one carved from wood that Mom gave Dad when they got married. 

Liesel's pretty sure that's also Dad's favorite.

It's when they get back to the car that Liesel suddenly realized that Dad was quieter than normal. She buckled herself in and then waited patiently for him to start the car, but he didn't. He just sat there, with his hands resting on the wheel, his gaze fixed. She swallowed hard before speaking. “Dad?” She signed as she spoke, watching his face in the rear view mirror. “Daddy?” Now she was getting scared. Something was definitely wrong. She bit at her bottom lip, not certain of what she should do. 

“Lis.” He let out a deep breath and her anxiety diminished a little. Something was still bothering him.

“What is it dad?” She watched as he turned in the front seat, looking back at her. “What's wrong?”

“We should go eat lunch.” It's such an odd thing for her dad to say. They had a lot of errands to run today and she'd packed a snack to eat in the car between the library and the grocery store. He'd made sure she brought it, because they had so much to do.

“Huh?” The sign somehow in her mind seemed rude, it always had. 

“We should go have lunch.” He said again, and a smile slowly came to his face. “We will drop off the items at the library and then go to lunch.”

“Okay.” She sat back in her seat as Dad turned around, buckled up and started the car. Something had happened – something wasn't quite right, but she couldn't figure out what it was. Then she remembered the dress she'd stuffed into her donation bag, not caring that she was crumpling it. Dad must have seen how she treated it when he double checked everything. She'd expected to get in trouble over it and not care. It had been the dress she wore to Mom's funeral. She'd never worn it again, she hadn't even known it was still in her closet since she'd outgrown mere months after that day. Perhaps Dad had gotten rid of his funeral clothes too – although she couldn't remember the suit he wore that day – only the gray tie with some kind of pattern in it. Everything else was a blur. 

*

Dean knew his daughter hated Mother's Day. He couldn't really blame her. It seemed so damn wrong that he, a grown man, still got the benefit of spending the day with his mom – while Liesel was denied the privilege. As much as he hated to think of his mom dying, it seemed horribly unfair. He almost felt like calling his parents and saying that instead of having dinner together tomorrow, he'd take his mom out to lunch later this week and they would just all go to mass together tomorrow and that would be all. Somehow, his mom would understand. It was wholly unfair to ask Liesel to go to a Mother's Day Celebration when her own mother wouldn't be there. He could remember last year at her school and it had been agony for both of them. He'd seen the dress in Liesel's giveaway bag. He hadn't remarked on it being there or its condition. He wouldn't have blamed her if she'd wanted to throw it away. Although the rest of the things in her pile made him realize that one, Liesel was growing up and two, he was doing a really bad job of noticing. That had to stop.

The slight shake of the table made him look up from his menu, snapping him from his thoughts. The waitress had set their glasses down and had rushed off again. He looked over at Liesel. _“Was she standing there a while?”_

_“No, she just put the drinks down and left. The family in the booth behind us is complaining about something. I think they don't know what animal pepperoni comes from, or something.”_

Dean repressed a chuckle and took a sip of his iced tea. When it came to pizza places, the Mellow Mushroom had the best non-booze related beverage menu. He set the menu down. _“House special, right?”_

 _“Right!”_ She nodded and her smile stayed on her face as the waitress came back, looking rather frazzled.

“Sorry about that, are you ready to order?” She took out her notepad. Someone else must have said something because he saw a flash of annoyance in her eyes. 

“Yes, we would like a medium house specialty pizza.” Dean took Liesel's menu and put it with his. “And we would both like a tossed salad to begin with.”

“Not a problem.” She took the menus. “Dressing?” She glanced at Liesel.

“Esperanza.” She said and Dean nodded slightly. 

“On both of them? Got it.” She gave Liesel a look. “You want some crayons?”

“No, thank you.” She ginned. “I'm trying to cut down on the amount of wax I eat.”

Dean covered his face to contain his laughter, so he missed the exchange between the woman and his little girl. He coughed and shook his head. _“I think you just cheered the waitress up.”_

 _“She needed it. The kid at the table behind you is screaming again.”_ Liesel shook her head. 

“ _What are they screaming about?”_ Dean took a drink of tea.

 _“Something about how much he hates the kind of dip that's on the table. I think.”_ She shrugged and drank some of her lemonade. “ _Is something wrong?”_

Dean let out a breath and put down his glass. _“I know you don't like Mother's Day, Lis.”_

 _“It's not that I hate it... it...”_ Her shoulders fell. _“It just makes it that much worse that mom's not here. Does that make sense?”_

He nodded in reply. He could understand that. It was a painful reminder – he most likely felt the same way around Valentine's Day, even going so far as to make sure he was working that day to let other people spend time with their significant others. 

She took a breath. _“Dad, is this about the dress in my donation pile?”_

 _“I am not mad about the dress, if that's what you're worried about.”_ He shook his head. _“You outgrew it a long time ago.”_ He set his hands on his glass. This was proving harder than he thought it would be. “How do you say the name of the house dressing?” 

“Esperanza?” Liesel blinked. “Es as in estimate, per as in person and anza as in... stanza.” She gave him a look. _“Daddy, you can say that word. What's wrong?”_

 _“Nothing.”_ He frowned. “ _I just found it rather sad that our together time tends to be doing errands, now that movie night has become a rare occurrence, rather than a weekly event.”_

 _“Softball hasn't complicated things, has it?”_ Liesel took a drink from her glass as the waitress returned and set bowls of salad down in front of them. 

_“No, honey.”_ Dean unrolled his silverware. _“Looking forward to summer camp?”_

She shrugged and picked up her fork. “ _Little worried about being one of the few hearing kids there.”_

 _“Now why would that worry you?”_ One look at his daughter's face and he knew he'd hit a nerve. _“Lis?”_

 _“Forget I said anything.”_ She looked down at her plate and ate a few bites of food. 

_“Liesel.”_ This was not good – and not how he wanted this to go at all. Clearly, something was upsetting her more than Mother's Day. _“Liesel Andrea.”_

She lifted her head, her face sad. _“It's not important.”_

 _“Did something say something to you?”_ This wasn't a minor thing – this was worse than when her teacher had an issue with her inviting him to the Mother's Day Tea Party last year. 

_“Not directly.”_ She took a sip of her lemonade before continuing. _“I don't like being called a hearie.”_

Dean set his fork down, sighing. _“You know that's not an entirely offensive term.”_

 _“It is when someone's who's deaf tells you to go be with the other hearies in your family. For me, that means going to Romania or dying to be with Mom!”_ Liesel's face became flushed. 

He frowned. _“Well, the next time someone says that to you, or calls you a hearie – start speaking Romanian.”_

“ _What do I say?”_ She gave him an incredulous look.

 _“Anything you want – list the names of colors, count to ten – recite 'Mary Had a Little Lamb' – just anything. They won't know what you're saying and if they ask, refuse to answer.”_ He picked up his fork. _“And if they continue to be mean, sic Oliver Jeso on them.”_

She snorted. _“I just want them to quit being mean, I don't want to kill them.”_

 _“Two minutes with either of the Jeso boys and people will change their ways.”_ He was about to continue when the back of his booth seat shook and he turned around. _“What in...”_ A boy fell out of the booth behind them and began pounding his fists against the floor. As calmly as he could he resumed eating and with a look at his daughter, she turned her attention to her food while a small crowd gathered at the neighboring table. He made a note to ask Liesel what the kid's problem was once they were done with lunch.

*

Liesel was in charge of carrying the flowers. While most people went to the store and spent what her dad called an obscene amount for blooms, she and her dad cut the flowers they were taking to the cemetery from their garden. Azaleas and Desert Roses were the only things blooming in their yard at the moment, the tulips had bloomed weeks ago and the roses were still only buds. They were going to the graveyard before church – for some reason, dinner plans at her grandparents house had been canceled. Then again, it wasn't the first time her dad had done something weird, so she decided to let it go. 

They parked near the crest of the hill and got out of the car. It wasn't too hot this morning, although the weather report said it was going to get close to ninety later this afternoon. Liesel adjusted her hold on the armful of flowers and and her dad were bringing and followed him down the worn path along the hill to a long gravestone set into the ground. 

She didn't say anything as he crouched down and cleaned the marker off with a cloth, making the granite shine. It was pinkish-gray on the outside, lining a slate gray in the middle. In big, block letters was their last name – COULTER – and on one side, was her mother's name – Ignacia Madgearu – along with her date of birth, October 12, 1980 – and her date of death, July 13, 2010. On the other side, was her father's name – Dean Michael, and a date of birth, January 24, 1979. It always unnerved her to read that – and she never felt comfortable being at the grave site until Dad used the flowers to cover up his name. 

Liesel tucked a strand of hair behind her ear as her dad stood back up from arranging the flowers. She was sort of surprised she wasn't crying – she always expected to cry when she came here, but for once, there was... nothing. Just an empty sort of feeling that just made her feel miserable and lost – but not weepy. She took a deep breath as her dad wrapped her in a one armed hug. She rubbed her nose and looked up at him, giving him her bravest smile.

Dad wasn't crying either – and he looked a little better than he had in the car. He hugged her again and they slowly turned and walked back to the car. They never stayed here very long. Liesel never knew what she was supposed to do when they came here anyway. Mom wasn't here in the graveyard. Mom was in Heaven and the gravestone was just a marker of where her body lay. 

Now all she had to do was get through church and then they could go home and forget it was Mother's Day. Or at least, she could. 

**  
The Friday after Mother's Day proved to be the bad sort of day Ignacia told Dean to save the news for. He had actually been planning on doing it Saturday, rather than wait for a bad day. He never got those people who managed to keep surprise trips a surprise all the way to the plane ride. Liesel was too smart to fall for that. After lunch with his mom, Dean made sure to send his leftovers home with her when he went back to work. The break room fridge at the hospital was notorious for making people's leftovers, lunch boxes and water bottles vanish. Dean didn't want to know what happened to items left in the freezer. 

When he arrived home, he found the first indication that Liesel's day had been, in a word, down right shitty. A 'FOR SALE' sign was stuck in the Stein's front yard. Dean's first feeling was of annoyance that neither of the Steins told him about it beforehand – then again, it could have been a sudden thing. Perhaps they were just moving out of the neighborhood and moving elsewhere in Austin. There were a few houses in his parent's subdivision that were for sale. 

After coming into the house from the garage he found his dad sitting at the kitchen table, his hands clasped around a mug. Dean could remember when he used to do that coming back from an investigation. He hung up his keys and, after washing his hands in the sink, went over to the table. _“Where's Liesel?”_

 _“She's in her room.”_ He pushed an envelope towards him. _“Her teacher sent this home. Apparently some of the girls in her class decided to gang up on her during recess.”_

 _“Damn.”_ Dean sat down and pulled the sheet of paper out and scanned it quickly. The vein in his temple started to throb when he read that four girls in Liesel's class had, for an unknown reason, picked up chunks of dirt and thrown them at her, while hurling insults. He couldn't believe that the school hadn't called him when this happened. _“Did they call you?”_

 _“Yes. You were most likely in surgery when they tried to contact you.”_ He shook his head. _“I went to the school and brought her home.” He rubbed his temple. “I assume you also saw the sign in the Stein's yard.”_

Dean nodded. _“Lis isn't physically hurt, is she?”_

 _“She's got a small cut on her cheek – one of the girls threw a rock.”_ Michael Coulter went steely faced. _“They should suspend all those girls for a week.”_

 _“That wouldn't do any good.”_ Dean rolled his eyes. _“Their mothers would probably use the time to buy them new clothes.”_

 _“In-school suspension would work.”_ Michael rubbed his eyes and shook his head. _“I think they should make those girls get up in front of the whole school and apologize for what they did.”_ He took a drink of tea.

 _“Has Lis talked to Emma at all?”_ Dean was praying that the news was the Steins were just moving out of the school district, or something similar.

 _“Yes. They're moving to Phoenix – the first week in June.”_ He took a deep breath. _“I'd sort of been hoping that the girls could at least have part of the summer to spend together.”_

 _“I was hoping they were just moving across town.”_ Dean sighed. _“Thanks for watching her, Dad. Cas hasn't been here, has he?”_

 _“No, he send me a text saying he was in El Paso for a few days.”_ He stood up. _“I should get going. It's my turn to cook dinner.”_

 _“Right.”_ Dean stood, gave his father a hug and walked him to the door. After he was gone, he went upstairs, changed from his work clothes and then went down the hall to Liesel's room. He nudged the door to Liesel's room open and peered through the gap. His daughter was lying on her bed, staring up at the ceiling. Both of the cats were curled up next to her. She was doing a rather splendid job of ignoring him – and quite frankly, after what his dad had just told him, he couldn't really blame her for being in the mood she was in. What he couldn't understand was why her classmates could be so cruel to her. He knew that the even worse news had been waiting for her when she got home. He would have thought that the Steins would have mentioned it to him before Emma went and dropped the bomb of them moving to Liesel. 

Emma and Liesel had been friends since they were five and the notion of his little girl having to endure cruelty at the hands of her classmates and come home and find that her best friend was moving away – not just from Austin, but out of Texas – that, in Dean's mind, was too much for one nearly nine year old girl to handle in a day. Hell, that was too much for a kid Liesel's age to handle in a month. 

He pushed the door open a little wider and came into the room, finally causing Liesel to turn and then sit up, hugging her pillow to her. She still wouldn't look at him. She'd been crying. He was definitely going to have a few choice words when he talked to the principal of Liesel's school. Holy Family was supposed to have a zero-tolerance policy against bullying. “Hey Bug.” He rubbed her back. “Grandpa told me you have a bunch of drojdie ratate for classmates.”

She gave him a look that normally, he would have told her to get off her face. Considering the day she had, he'd let it go. “I don't think that's what you meant to call them, Dad.”

“Didn't I call them spoiled brats? What did I say?” 

“Odraslelor ratate is spoiled brats.” She managed a smile. “You said spoiled yeast.”

“Ratate means spoiled. I had that right at least.” He ruffled her hair and gave her an encouraging smile. “I do, however, want to say I am very proud of you for not punching any of your classmates for what they did and said. I suspect you wanted to.”

“You're the one who taught me that fighting was bad. I would have gotten in more trouble than they did. Which I think is even more unfair.” She tossed her pillow to the side. “At least the school year is almost over.” Her smile became a little more certain. “There is that.” Her shoulders slumped. “I don't want Emma to move away.”

“I know you don't, sweetheart.” He took a breath. “You feel like eating any dinner?”

She shook her head. “I'm not hungry.”

Dean nodded, thinking. “Going to the store tomorrow. Have you checked the list?”

“No, why?” She rubbed her nose and then dug into her pocket, pulling out a tissue. 

“There's a lot of frozen things on sale this week, time to stock up.” He gave her a more certain smile. “So would you feel like eating dinner if it was waffles and ice cream?”

Her eyes widened. “Are you kidding?”

“Now Liesel, when do I joke about food?” He hugged her and kissed the top of her head. “Why don't you go wash your face and hands and I'll meet you downstairs.”

“Okay.” She managed a brave smile. _“Dibs on what's left of the Brownie Blast.”_

 _“It's all yours.”_ Dean stood and went downstairs.

*  
Liesel went into the kitchen feeling a little better. Dad was already working the toaster for the waffles and two bowls stood empty on the counter. She was rather proud of herself for not letting her classmates see her cry. Her cheek still stung a little from where the rock hit – she didn't know what sort of punishment Kara Ferguson and her little gang were going to get. Dad had to go and talk to the principal on Monday. 

“There's something on the table for you.” Dad said, catching sight of her. “I know it's a little early, but there's a reason for it.” 

She went over to the table where there was an envelope that had a bulge in it. She gave her dad an odd look as she picked it up, scrawled on the front, in her mother's handwriting where the words – _Liesel's Birthday – Age 9._ It was a little more than a month until her birthday – her dad always gave the card from her mother on that day. (The first one had informed her that mom had left behind a card for every birthday until she was 18.) She noted, however, when she flipped it over, that it had been opened and resealed with a sticker. Dad had put something in it, she guessed.

She pulled the card out and a twice folded piece of paper fell out of it. Liesel picked the paper up but didn't unfold it until she read the card – tracing over the words 'Love Mom' at the bottom. She looked up from the table and over to her dad, who was watching her. “My birthday isn't for another month, Dad.”

“I know. Check the paper there.” Her dad had the most silly grin on his face. What was he up to?

She set the card down and unfolded the sheet of paper. It was a print-out of a flight schedule, a plane leaving on June 13 from Austin. She stared at the flights, not understanding what this was all about, until she looked at the final destination of the trip. Orlando, Florida. She looked up. “Dad?”

“Yes, Lis?” He was still grinning.

She looked down at the paper, scanned the dates and felt her eyes widen as she looked back up. “We're going to Orlando during my birthday?”

“Is that a problem?” He gave her a funny look.

“No... just...” She dropped the paper on the table, ran across the room and threw her arms around him. “Thank you!” 

Her dad hugged her back. The day had just taken a dramatic upturn – and, if the opportunity came up – she might not mind it so much if a room full of strangers sang 'Happy Birthday' to her.


End file.
